Just One of Those Days
by The Clock Strikes Thirteen
Summary: Doctor Mia Pembrooke didn't expect S.H.E.I.L.D. Director Nick Fury to walk into her office. She really didn't expect him to make her an offer she literally couldn't refuse... or else. And she really, really didn't expect her new therapy patient to be Loki. Oh well, it's just one of those days. Loki/OFC/OMC, Natasha/Clint, Pepper/Tony, possible Steve/OC.
1. Chapter 1: The Patient

**Hey people! I got the idea for this fic when I was watching BarleyPolitical's Thor and Loki therapy session and though it would be interesting. Drop a line when you're done, as it means so much to me!**

**_Chapter One: The Patient_**

I shift uncomfortably behind my desk, nervously drumming my freshly-painted red nails on the wooden surface that's cluttered with files and pencils. I cross my left leg over my right as I wait, resting my elbow on the piece of furniture and sighing, glancing up at the clock that's ticking away on the far wall.

My gaze then moves to the chair in front of me and my stomach flips, something that was become strangely frequent and in all honesty, it worries me. Odin had told me I would be perfectly safe when doing this, as guards would be stationed outside and he had long-since stripped my patient of his magic, but I was still way past nervous now, to the point where I think I'm going to be sick.

But don't judge me too quickly; what would you do if the Allfather appeared in your office, closely followed by actual humans explaining what was going on? I bet you any money your reaction wouldn't be as dramatic or freaked as mine, but I'm sure you'd still flip.

I remember a lot of screaming when he randomly burst through my door without knocking, his metal eye patch gleaming in the sun and his strange robes billowing in the late autumn wind from the open window. He looked every inch like a god and for a second I couldn't speak at all. This change quickly, however and I was soon on my feet, demanding to know what was going on.

A tall, slightly imposing African-American man who also had an eye patch walked in through the still-open entrance and introduced himself as Nick Fury, a fact that didn't calm me in the least. He explained that I was chosen to give therapy sessions to the most wanted person in the country, Loki Odinson. Naturally, I called the police. They didn't arrive however, and I was forced to shut up and listen to his proposal.

Apparently, the plan between them was to try to reform Loki to the best of their ability and possibly introduce him to the Avengers, yes, the people who kicked some serious ass about a month ago. I was in my office when the siege of New York happened and a new window had to be ordered after the Hulk smashed through mine. I didn't really feel any anger towards them, not like some other people, I guess I just knew that it they weren't there, I'd have way more to deal with than a broken window.

Anyway, I laughed when Fury told me that the hope was to get Loki into Earth's Mightiest Hero's. I out and out laughed in his face and regretted nothing. "Murdering scum don't belong in a team like that, they don't belong in anything, except hell." I told him and he seemed to understand how his wishful thinking may backfire. It wasn't as though I had a choice; however, as he pointed out how easy it would be to make sure I didn't talk if I refused. I didn't want to think about what they would do, so I agreed on the spot, sealing it with a handshake.

He left shortly after with Odin, leaving behind Loki's file for me to read with a bottle of gin that night. It was the only way I could sleep, that man scared the shit out of me, and his insanely long list of crimes against humanity was almost as frightening as the twisted smirk he had on his face in the Asgardian equivalency of a mug shot they took.

I pull myself back to the present when a knocking on my door is heard. I look up from the chair to the door to see a silhouette of three men behind the glass and I sit up straighter, folding my hands and placing them on the desk after I ready my tape recorder.

"Come in." I say loud enough for them to hear me as I mentally prepare myself.

I freeze on the inside as the door opens and I come face-to-face with the man, or in this case god, I'm trying to help. His hair is dark and gelled back away from his pale, angular face. His eyes are a bright, bright green and his thin lips curl up into that same twisted smirk when he sees me, making me visibly shudder. I'm comforted slightly by the fact that he seems to be wearing some sort of extremely strong-looking handcuffs.

"We'll be outside, Doctor Pembrooke, if he tries anything, just scream and we'll be there." Tristan, one of the guards and my current boyfriend tells me and I nod, giving him a genuine smile as the two men leave the room. Loki stands where they left him and I motion for him to sit down.

When he's seated, I realize the smirk hasn't left his face and I'm barley able to stop myself from shuddering again. "Hello, Loki. I'm Doctor Pembrooke and I'll be your therapist for the next twelve weeks. I'll be seeing you three times a week and our goal is to get to the root cause of your problem and hopefully find a cure." I say in a bland voice. Gesturing to my tape-recorder, I continue. "I'll also be taping our conversation and making notes, would you care to introduce yourself?" I ask, switching on the device and he laughs softly under his breath, making me very afraid again.

"Hello Doctor Pembrooke." He says in a very odd voice. It isn't unpleasant per say, but it does make my skin crawl to hear it. I'm suddenly uncomfortable again, so I figuratively duck behind my wall of professionalism.

"So, let's start with you telling me a bit about yourself, where did you come from?" I ask and he sits back a little bit.

"I honestly don't know why you're asking this, Doctor Pembrooke, Odin told me you were intelligent." I grit my teeth when he says this, knowing I'll have to put up with it for the next few weeks and sigh.

"I am asking this because I would like you to refresh my memory." I say with impatience in my voice and this seems to give him some form of amusement, as his smile doesn't leave his face.

"If you must know, I come from the realm of Asgard." He replies and I nod, jotting down something on my clipboard with my favourite blue pen.

"Uh-huh, and there are nine of these 'realms' correct?" I ask and he nods.

"Yes." I take another few notes, and it becomes clear to me that the Norse god of Mischief isn't one to waste words.

"And we are in Midguard apparently, or at least, according to your father." I say, looking down at my notes. My gaze shoots up when I hear him shift in his chair. This surprises me because for the most part, he'd been completely still. I smile to myself as I think about this.

_Somebody has Daddy issues. _I say to myself, jotting that down and not allowing my smirk to show on the outside. I twirl my pen in my fingers as I continue, pausing every few seconds to write down something important.

"And you have a brother, Thor, if I'm not mistaken." I ask absentmindedly and I'm rewarded with the sight of him tensing, but not replying. I stop again to make another note of that.

_And sibling issues too, who knew? Better look into that. _I look back up to him to see he's still watching me although his smile had faded a while ago, making me less nervous. But even though he's technically my patient, I can't help but think he's in control.

"Doctor Pembrooke, excuse me for asking this, but when does our session end?" he asks out of the blue and I point up to the ancient clock that reads 2:15 PM.

"Not for another forty-five minutes I'm afraid. Now, let's talk a little bit about your father, he seems to care very much about you." I again smirk to myself when I see him tense and end up making a few more notes in the awkward silence that follows.

"Odin _seems_ to care about many things." He says in a surprisingly icy voice and I take note of the emphasis he uses.

_He doesn't call him father, dad or papa, how strange. _I write down, glancing back up to find that the green-eyed god's attention is drawn away from me to my certificate's on the wall.

"Cambridge University, Doctor Pembrooke?" He asks and I'm slightly annoyed at the fact that he's deliberately drawing attention away from himself.

"Yes, Loki, now about your father." He turns back to me, tenting his long, thin fingers. His smile doesn't return, and for that I'm eternally grateful, but he still looks menacing.

"My father… is dead, and I killed him." He says and I freeze again, lurching forward a bit.

"But Odin isn't…" I trail off when his soft laughter returns, but it gets louder as I try to figure out what's going on.

"So he didn't tell you? Well, I figured as much." He says with another wicked cackle and I grip the armrests on my chair.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, fear in my voice and I mentally curse myself for being so openly afraid in front of him. He leans forward and I flinch when he stops laughing, but his smirk remains.

"Why would I tell you Doctor, when I can show you?" He asks in light voice. He sits back and my eyes widen as his skin colour changes from pale and chalky to a light blue. I jerk back in my seat as his laughter returns and his green eyes turn a sick red. On impulse, I scream bloody murder as he laughs and a few seconds later, Tristan and the other guard charge into the room and grab the god around the arms.

I watch, awestruck as he turns back to normal and is roughly led out of the room by Tristan. When he glances back at me as he leaves, my stomach flips as he grins widely at me, his eyes flashing red for the last time as the door closes behind him.

That night, I can't get the image of him out of my brain. I glance to the digital clock, whose red numbers tell me it's 2:30. I have another session tomorrow and I know I need my sleep, but it won't find me, instead, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and throw on my robe, padding out into the hall.

I switch the kitchen light on and remind myself to invest in a pair of bunny slippers when I step onto the cold black and white tile. I walk over to the stove and switch it on, getting out a saucepan from the cupboard above. I then walk over to the pantry, open the doors and pull out my jar of Nutella. I'd become obsessed with the taste of Nutella hot chocolate and found it a wonderful remedy for a sleepless night and a freezing bed.

The fridge is my next stop as I open the white, humming door and free the milk from its shelf-prison. I stop however, when I notice how badly my left hand is shaking. I dismiss it as cold, as my heater broke a few weeks ago and go about my business, forgetting that it ever happened.

I hum to myself as I pour the milk I need into the saucepan and whisk in the chocolate-hazelnut spread, feeling really fat for about five minutes and reminding myself that I'll have to hit the gym on my day off. I pour the contents of the pot into a mug and throw the metal vessel into the dish washer, juggling plates a bowls so it will fit and starting the machine.

I take my drink and open the screen door, stepping out into the November air, taking a deep breath as I sit down, trying to clear my head. I take a sip and feel better about the idea of facing Loki tomorrow. I start to hum Terry Kelly's A Pittance of Time, knowing that remembrance day will be next week. I am so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I nearly fall over the balcony into the street when a blonde, buff man in a red cape, appears behind me.

"Oh god!" I shout, jerking in surprise when I see him, setting my hot chocolate down and turning to the man. I give him a once-over and decide he's harmless, nobody else dresses like him in New York City, so it's safe to assume he's Asgardian. "You must be Thor." I say simply, standing up and he nods.

"Yes, I am Thor. Forgive me for startling you, but the door was open." My brow furrows and I look around him to find he's right.

_I must be losing my marbles. _I think to myself, trying to figure out how I could've forgotten something so simple.

"Oh, well, how stupid of me. I'm Doctor Mia Pembrooke, by the way." I pick up my mug, stepping into my apartment to find it increasingly warm. I wonder how that's possible when I look to my gas stove, gasping in horror. I rush over to it, frantically turning the knobs and switching it off, wondering how I could've missed that.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mia. I also understand that you have volunteered to give Loki therapy." Thor says, sitting down at the kitchen table, oblivious to my distress and I nod, still very scared at what could've happened as I sit down opposite to him.

"Well, actually, I was more or less told." I reply and he nods.

"Either way, you will be working in close contact with him, I feel it is my job to warn you." He says and I lean forward, interested.

"Like?" I ask and he exhales, sitting back and cracking his knuckles.

"For starters, he is manipulative." Thor tell me and I nod.

"Yeah, I got that." Is my reply.

"He is a natural liar, his silver tongue isn't a power that my father can take." Again, I nod in understanding.

"I'll have to be careful." I reassure him. "Anything else?" I ask and he thinks for a moment. "Wait, I have a question." I pause for a second as Thor gives me permission to ask. "Why didn't Odin tell me he's not Loki's real father?" I ask and Thor seems a bit troubled as my inquiry.

"My father is a good man, he longed to unite our lands, and so, many years ago, he took a Frost Giant that was abandoned from its home in Jotunheim, one of the other nine realms." He replies and everything suddenly clicks.

_That explains the flinching at the names. _I think to myself.

"And Odin didn't tell him this until when?" I question and Thor sighs again.

"Loki was informed of this regrettably late, and S.H.E.I.L.D now believes that his lack of this important knowledge is what is driving him to commit his recent acts. Many agree to this, I myself included." Thor answers and I sigh in turn. This makes things so much easier and yet so much more complicated. I've dealt with cases where my patient would detest their birth parents and their adoptive parents equally, usually because the adoptive one's didn't tell them, and their biological parents didn't live up their hopes when they finally meet.

_This however, is a completely different ball park. _I remind myself, yawning. I stretch my arms above my head and Thor seems to take a hint, standing up from the table.

"I shall be going, for it is late and you shall have a trying day tomorrow." Loki's adopted brother says and I nod, walking him to the door. Just as I close it behind him he looks back to me.

"Thor, don't worry about Loki, I can handle him." I tell him as he opens his mouth to probably warn me again.

"I do not doubt your capabilities, Mia, but I advise you to please be careful." I nod again, yawning once more and closing the door behind him, locking it and turning off the kitchen light, stumbling into my bedroom and collapsing onto the bed, letting sleep consume me.


	2. Chapter 2: The Doctor

**Two chapters in one sitting, who knew? Anyway, please review, as they make me very happy (even criticism is awesome right now!) Links are in my profile!  
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**_Chapter Two: The Doctor_**

I am awoken by the unique symphony of my alarm clock the next morning, quickly followed by the melody of my fist slamming onto the 'off' button as I roll, over and get out of bed, my legs giving out beneath me as I fall to the carpeted floor.

"Mother of pearl." I hiss under my breath, quoting SpongeBob Square Pants, my guilty pleasure as I pick myself up from the floor and stagger into the bathroom, stripping off my pyjamas and hopping into the shower. I love the feeling of the hot water but unfortunately, all good things must end and I'm forced to leave for time purposes.

_Tomorrow I'll sleep in and spend an hour in here. _I think to myself as I step out of the shower, wrapping my torso in a fluffy white towel and heading back to my room to get dressed.

One white blouse and navy blue pencil skirt with matching blazer later and I'm back in the bathroom, brushing out my long, wet blonde hair and applying a little mascara and lip-gloss. I put on my black pumps that are murder for my feet and my briefcase and purse on my way out, intending to stop off at the bakery for breakfast.

I take the stairs two at a time on my way out of the building, wave at the woman working the front desk and burst out into the busy streets of New York. I scramble to my car, getting in and inserting the keys, carefully backing up and pulling out.

I swerve and give some guy the middle finger when he cuts me off and then continue on my way to the cute little bakery around the corner. I park and get out of my piece-of-crap car that I had painted a bright red to give my life some spice (this failed badly) and I walk into the shop, smiling when I hear the little bell tinkle above me.

The whole place smells like cookies and fresh coffee, which makes me only smile brighter as I head to the register, deciding on a chocolate chip muffin and a double long espresso.

"Hello Mia, you're becoming quite the regular!" The old woman who owns the bakery says and I grin at her, nodding and taking my food, reaching into my purse to get my wallet.

"That I am, but I can't help it, you make amazing muffins." I reply and the lady waves off the compliment.

"You say that to any old lady you encounter on the streets." She says passively and I shake my head.

"I kid you not, they're fantastic, and I'll be back." I tell her, taking my change and turning to leave.

"Have a good day, Mia!" I hear her call from behind me and I smile brighter.

"You too!" I hear the bell above my head as I exit the shop and get into my car, speeding off to the drab, gray building I work in. I pull into my respective parking spot that has my name on it and step out onto the pavement, walking quickly into the back exit, pushing the 'up' button on the elevator and stepping into the dull lift.

The wall paper is peeling and the white tiles on the floor are chipped beyond all reason. Soft, dreary elevator music plays in the background, making me want to go home and fall asleep again it's so boring.

I sigh in relief when the elevator dings and the doors slid open on to the right floor. I step into the hall and speed-walk to my office, the capital letters reading; 'DOCTOR MIA PEMBROOKE' on the door. I reach into my purse again and draw out my key-ring, inserting it into the lock and jiggling it until I hear the click. This door is so old that it takes a bit of coaxing to get it open, but I manage to be able to use my shoulder to fully wrench it open.

"Finally." I breathe when I step inside, wrinkling my nose at the smell of mildew and decay. In all honesty, my office is not all that bad, the green wallpaper is still intact and my file cabinet isn't rusting over like some of the others, but still, it's painfully small and a bit suffocating.

I make myself comfortable, setting up for today and getting the necessary files out. Business has been slow lately, meaning that I'd been getting small jobs, mainly people who need someone to talk to for an obscene amount of money, but who was I to complain these people willingly and knowingly forked over their hard-earned cash to me for a bit of support and advice, was I so bad if I would take it just as enthusiastically?

As for Loki, well, I'm doing it out of the goodness of my heart. Odin may be king of Asgard, but he has no Earth money at all, while S.H.E.I.L.D is a government agency that doesn't exist in the long run, which kinda hard to get a check from. But still, I agreed because I didn't have a choice, as I've made perfectly clear by now, and the fact that it might be interesting to get to work with a severe case for once. With the fright I got yesterday, I can tell that this won't be a walk in the park.

At 2:00 PM sharp, I hear the knocking on my door and I glance up from Loki's file, telling them to come in again. When Tristan walks in, the first thing I do is smile at him and remind myself to call him about our date tomorrow night. My gaze turns to Loki when the guards leave and I gasp.

The god has a large, painful-looking black eye on the right side of his face pointed face, making me feel the smallest bit sad for him. He sits down and seems to wear the injury with pride as his shoulders are squared and he is sitting up straight.

"Your lover is quick to violence when angered." Loki says, stating the obvious and I nod. Tristan was never abusive with me, but if you pissed him off the wrong way, he'd kill you, provided you deserved it.

"Well, I'll have a talk with him." I respond, clicking on my tape-recorder and he smirks.

"Be sure you that you do, such behaviour is not tolerated on Asgard, regardless of the fact that we are a superior race." He says smugly and I roll my eyes, jotting down something about a superiority complex in my notes.

"No, I'll tell him to clean up his act and not be so sloppy. Usually when he hits someone, he's careful not to leave a mark." That shuts him up long enough for me to think as I smirk in turn jotting down something else as he remains silent.

"He seemed quite upset with me at frightening you." Loki says after a moment of awkward silence and nod.

"Well, he's my boyfriend, that's his job, besides cuddling of course." This seems to disgust him and I make special note of that.

_Is visibly grossed-out by the mention of cuddling, possible bad break-up? _I wonder who in their right mind would date this nut in the first place, but I don't say anything about it, I just continue.

"Let's make a deal, I promise to make sure Tristan never hits you again, and you never do whatever that was yesterday. Okay?" I ask and he inclines his head in agreement.

"That is fair, Doctor. I will uphold my part of the agreement if you keep your part intact as well." I sigh and nod, glad that we're making progress as I make a note for myself to have him checked out by the building's nurse. In a workplace as old as this, accidents are frequent, such as falling down the stairs or having a chunk off room come crashing down on your head. Tristan paid my boss big money to put me in a safe environment.

"Wonderful, Loki. We also ended up finishing half-an-hour early; let's make sure that this never happens again, you don't want to waste this time." I say, jotting down something else on my clipboard about his strange sense of humour as his smirk gets smirk-ier.

"And why wouldn't want to waste this time I'm given?" He asks and I sigh, setting down my clipboard and pen, putting both my palms on the desk and standing up.

"Because you're a lucky god. You're very lucky you were assigned to me but waste the time I'm taking to try and help you and you'll regret it. My bark is worse than my bite, but keep this up for the next few weeks and you'll be transferred to Doctor Gregovich, and he favours shock treatments." I sit back down as though my outburst never happened and I pick up my clipboard, looking up to the god.

I'm startled at how shaken he looks about the idea of shock treatment. _Loki hates electricity… lighting maybe? _I jot down with a reminder to talk to Thor about it, as I haven't seen Odin in a month and Director Fury in the last three weeks. For someone who is hiring me to help reform someone, they really kept me out of the loop.

"Let's move on then, my notes tell me we were talking about Odin yesterday, which I have recently figured out is not your real father." I say, reverting back to my professional disguise and his stony gaze falters for a minute.

"No, he isn't my father." I'm secretly glad we're getting somewhere as I continue.

"Would you care to tell me about the man who is?" I ask and he pauses, as if searching for the right words.

"Have you ever heard of Frost Giants, Doctor Pembrooke?" He asks and I shake my head, deciding not to tell him that I've been in contact with Thor.

"No, I-I haven't, what does this have to do with anything?" Loki doesn't answer, instead he just continues on as if he's talking to some daft child.

"They're beastly creatures that dwell in Jotunheim, completely frozen beings, it's even said that their hearts don't beat they are so cold." I nod, not really knowing where he's going with this. "I've recently found that I am one of these monsters." He continues and supress a sigh, this isn't going so great. "And that I can still change form, even without my magic because their blood flows through my veins." I put a hand up to stop him from continuing as he looks like he's only getting angrier as he goes along.

"So, I understand that Odin also lied to you about your heritage, is this correct?" I ask and he nods. "Do you think that maybe it's the reason why you unleashed an army of flying lizards on New York City?" I ask and a look of annoyance crosses his face.

"Chitauri." He corrects and I nod apologetically.

_Flying Lizards= Chitauri, who knew? _I jot down, looking back up to him, motioning of him to continue.

"And no, my quarrels with Odin are unrelated." I raise an eyebrow, wondering how true this is and decide to dig a little deeper.

"Then why did you do it?" I ask and he sits forward a little bit, clasping his bound hands together as I instinctively move away.

"Because I care, Doctor." I frown and glance down at my notes, debating on whether or not to just declare him mentally unstable and pass him off to Doctor Gregovich for the next few months of intense electrical treatment.

I'm so close to checking off the 'untreatable via personal therapy' box and calling the guards to take him away, but I don't. I'm not sure why, I'm really not, but I pull my pen away and decide to talk to him a little more. Something about Loki is intriguing, like a personal challenge, a test that I'm determined to ace, I honestly have no idea, but I decide to hold out a little longer.

"Elaborate." I command and he seems surprised. This emotion passes quickly and he's back to being his regular, barely-supressed rage-filled self.

"Humans need a leader to show them the right way, they need someone to watch over them, to tell them they're doing a good job because they're too simple-minded to know for themselves. Am I so horrible caring enough to try to give humanity what it needs?" He finishes with a question and I shudder a bit.

_He has a biased opinion on humans, maybe he encountered too many idiots, and lord knows there are enough of them downtown. _I smirk to myself as I write this, realizing how true it is. New York is filled with crazies, it's where they flock, it's where they can almost be accepted as part of the masses.

"Don't you think that is a little partial?" I ask and he laughs under his breath like he does whenever he's amused by a question I ask. This is really starting to get on my nerves, I mean, what the hell is so funny?

"Partial, Doctor, really? I believe it's your turn to expand on this idea." This irks me as well, his major ego making me feel like I'm the one who needs therapy.

"Well, not every human needs a leader, some work just fine without one." I reply and the annoying laughter returns, although it's less loud.

"Like you Doctor Pembrooke?" He inquires and I narrow my eyes at him. Stupid jerk, that's not what I meant at all. "You think yourself independent? You have a superior, your everyday life is controlled by them, and theirs is controlled by even higher power, and so it goes up and up and up. Where does this get humanity, Doctor? Nowhere, it will keep escalating until someone like me steps in to stop it from spiralling out of control." My glare turns icy as he finishes, folding his hands and going blissfully silent.

"That's disgusting." the words are out before I can stop them and he shows no emotion in regards to the break in my professionalism except humour. My personal views don't belong in my office; they never have with any patient, why is that fact changing so suddenly!? I guess it's because how bloody angry he makes me! I just want to sock him in his stupid face and give him another black eye!

_Okay, Mia. Calm down, something tells me he wants you to be angry. _I settle down and try to calm the rage beneath my skin as I wait for him to speak.

"Truth can be disgusting Doctor, I thought you were supposed to be intelligent enough to know that." I grip the armrests out of anger, rather than fear and glare daggers at him.

_How dare he? _I ask myself as I again try to keep myself from killing him with my pen. I return my hands to their place on my desk and sigh, un-tensing my shoulders and taking a deep breath.

"So, in short, you wanted to bring death and destruction to Earth because you care about it?" I ask hesitantly and he gives me a curt nod, his smirk disappearing. "Alright then." I tell him, jotting that down as I glance at the clock and he turns as well, a smile in his eyes as he steals the words out of my mouth.

"It seems we're out of time, doctor." He says and I shake my head.

"Tristan, Henry, we're finished here." I call out and the two men enter the room, each taking a side beside the fallen god and escorting him from the room.

Just before he disappears, he looks back to again, without a smile or freaky red eyes. "I'll see you on Thursday, mortal." He spits out the last word like it's poison and my blood boils again as the door slams behind them, leaving me alone in my office.


	3. Chapter 3: The Meeting

**Hello again! I'm a little sad that I only have one review, but still, thank you SO much to Katniss1, you are amazing. To those who favourited/alerted, you guys rock too, but why not review? I know i'm being a pushy little freak right now, but I'm also bloody obsessed!**

**_Chapter Three: The Meeting_**

I hum along with Steve Earle as he plays on the radio and I plunk down onto my extremely soft and more than a little worn sofa. I put my left foot up on the coffee table and roll up my red-striped pajama bottoms, turning on the TV and opening the little bottle of red nail polish I have in my hand.

Painting my toes always calmed me down after a hard day, and my second session with Loki was tough. The man… er, god, is just so arrogant and stupid, it makes me want to scream or cry or both, it's very confusing. I bend my upper body over my knee, angling the brush and letting the deep red colour glide over the nail on my big toe and I instantly feel a little better, not because of the fumes I'm inhaling, but more because what girl wouldn't feel better when making herself prettier?

I remind myself that painting my toes is pointless, as I'll be wearing closed-toed shoes tomorrow night on my date but I can't be bothered. I bend over my knee even further to get the next digit, casually glancing up at the movie I'm watching every couple of seconds, cursing when I accidently get the polish on my skin.

"AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU!" I scream along with Whitney Houston as the end credits for The Bodyguard roll on the TV screen and I resist the urge to cry, kicking myself for being so sappy.

I stand up and walk into the kitchen, intent on making myself a coffee and staying up late tonight when I hear a bumping noise. I freeze, grabbing the baseball bat that sits beside the fridge and walking towards the front door ninja-style and ready to beat the shit out of any robber that dares enter my apartment.

I stalk towards the door and pull or the old-fashioned chain that keeps it lock, cautiously opening it. I step out into the hall slowly and sense movement out of the corner of my eye. Swinging my bat like a maniac towards the person, I hear a thump and I can't move my wrist. Opening my eyes and looking up at my attacker, I scream bloody murder.

Grabbing onto my arm is the God of Thunder himself, this time dressed in normal clothes, who's laughing quietly at my pitiful attempts to let me go. "Thor?" I ask, making him laugh even more as he releases me. Standing behind him is an assortment of people.

One man has light brown hair, perfectly parted and gelled back in a dated style with a plaid shirt and leather duster. An attractive, red-haired woman in a tight black-leather jacket and skinny jeans is beside the fifties-style man, and another guy with cropped, light blonde hair and a vest stands beside her, inconspicuously holding her hand. The last two of the group seem older, as the man in the purple shirt and khaki pants already has gray hairs riddled amongst the dark brown. And lastly, a dark-eyed, tanned dude with dark-brown, curly hair and a long-sleeved T-shirt and track pants stands near the front, eyeing me with curiosity.

"I apologize if I startled you, Mia." He says and I manage to grin back at him. Suddenly blushing as I look down, realizing that I'm still in my purple socks and my candy-cane-striped pajamas, I feel like a five-year-old.

"Is there anything you wanted to talk about, seeing as you're prowling outside my home?" I ask tentatively, making him laugh again.

"Actually, there is. I thought you would like to meet the rest of my team." I nod, smiling at the people behind him and deciding to let them in.

"Pardon the mess; I really wasn't expecting anybody to come over until tomorrow." I explain as I open the door, stepping back into my home as they follow suit.

"It's no problem Ma'am, you have a lovely home." the fifties-style guy tells me, making me smile.

"Oh, thank you Mr.…" I trail off and he takes a step toward me, holding out his hand which I tentatively shake, my inner germaphobe coming out.

"Rogers, Steve Rogers." He gives me a million-watt smile that I whole-heartedly return, as I realize who he is; Captain America.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Mia Pembrooke, but please, call me Mia." I reply and he nods.

"Then you're more than welcome to call me Steve." I do a tap dance in my mind, feeling beyond excited at the fact that I get to meet the world's first superhero.

After Steve, the redhead steps up to the plate, holding out her hand for me to shake. "Natasha Romanoff." She states as I greet her, telling her my name as I silently gape in wonder at the master assassin.

The next two people to introduce themselves are the two older-looking men. "Tony Stark." the one in the Black Sabbath T-shirt says as I give him a polite smile, turning to the purple-clad other.

"Doctor Bruce Banner." Shyness radiates off of this guy, it's actually startling how quiet he is, like he doesn't want to be noticed at all, it's different. I recognize Mr. Stark to be Iron Man, as I sometimes see him flying around Stark Tower, rebuilding the structure himself, but I can't recall any Doctor Banner…

I ponder this in my head for a few seconds until he finally looks me in the eye. 'Oh my god,' I think to myself remembering the same set of brown orbs staring at me as the fists from the creature they belonged to smashed my window in. I'm not scared of him, per say, but it is unnerving to know that The Hulk is standing in your foyer.

"Pleasure to see you again, Doctor Banner." Again, attack of my big-ass mouth. He narrows his eyes as if trying to find where he'd seen me before, making me nervous.

"I don't believe we've met." He says finally and I know I'm in too deep now to bail myself out.

"Technically, we never spoke… but… um; I think… the other guy sort of smashed through my office window…" I trail off as awkward silence reigns supreme for a second and I curse myself for ever mentioning it.

"Well… this is awkward." Mr. Stark says after about three minutes, shattering the silence and I can't help it, I laugh, and I laugh a lot.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry, I don't know what came over me." I apologize, decided to pretend like this never happened. This seems to sit well with everybody as they smile at me, and the dead silence is filled with some chatter for a few moments as the very last member of the Avengers walks forward.

Instantly I know that he's the one, the one everybody was talking about at the office, the traitor that betrayed the team. For a long time, all the information the civilians got was that one of the members of the Avengers was in fact, a traitor. When I'd asked about this, Director Fury had explained about Loki's magic stick, I hold no grudges against the infamous Hawkeye; instead, I'm eager to talk to him about his time with Loki, as it may improve my therapy sessions with the god.

Are you sure he's not going to need any therapy? I ask myself and I don't doubt the fact that what he's probably seen isn't all that great for the psyche.

"Clint Barton." Is all he says as I shake his hand, eyeing him, looking for something I can take away and use with Loki without having to ask anymore awkward questions.

"Mia Pembrooke." I greet, turning to all of the guests in my house. "If you don't mind, I'd like to ask all of you some questions." I decide that it's best to ask all of them about the god I'm trying to help; at least I'm not singling anybody out, right?

I move the group into my living room, switching off the TV and sitting them down on the random chairs and couches I have strewn about. I fell in love with the window dominating the far wall of my living room, one that was much bigger than any of the others, but the view was so beautiful, I bought it on the spot, despite the fact that I now have a tiny bathroom and bedroom so as to keep everything in proportion.

Mr. Stark takes a look out of my fabulous windows and whistles, obviously impressed, making me glow on the inside. "You pay much for that view?" He asks and I nod.

"The mortgage is crippling, Mr. Stark." I respond, moving my nail polish off of the coffee table, trying to make everything look decent. At the last second, I make a mad dash to my kitchen, grabbing my tape recorder and sprinting back to living room, setting it down on the freshly-cleared table and taking a seat on the recliner.

"So" Clint says, sitting forward. "What would you like to know, Doctor Pembrooke?" He asks and I take a deep breath, flipping the switch in my brain to professional, despite the fact that I'm sitting down in a recliner, not an office chair, with my hair in a ponytail, and wearing a pair of striped PJ's and a Rocky Horror Picture Show tank-top.

"I'd like to hear about your experiences with my patient, you don't have to share, but I think my main wells of information will be Thor and Mr. Barton." I say and the god and man nod in understanding. "Okay, Thor, you grew up with Loki, how has he changed since childhood?" I inquire, picking up one of the thousands of notebooks I have and a stray pen.

"He has changed much from the brother I knew. He was never jealous of me as a boy, but he was still aware of the difference in our treatment, even when we were children." He says and I scribble down the gibberish I call writing onto the lined page.

"Why were you treated differently," Is my next question and Thor pauses before speaking.

"Asgardian's value strength and tenacity, all of which apply to me, I was the probable heir to the throne. I was the prized son. Loki's strengths however lie in magic and academics, both of which are strange and foreign to me. Although I don't deny that these are important virtues, they cannot compare to bravery in Asgard." I nod as my pen flies on the paper, taking down everything.

Asgard isn't as different as here after all; they don't value knowledge and favour beauty, just like us. I look back up when Thor falls silent and Clint opens his mouth.

"Loki is a twisted person, Doctor Mia, who truly believes what he says about ruling the Earth. My memories are fuzzy around the edges as to my time controlled by him, but it's as if he thinks that enslaving the planet will bring self-respect." Again, my writing utensil takes down every word and I make note to put this paper with the rest of Loki's file.

"He has a blinding superiority complex, Doctor, as well as many, many other illnesses." Mr. Stark states while my eyes are cast downward.

"But he's a genius, and very dangerous, he can outsmart anybody." Natasha adds while I jot down notes frantically.

"The helmet's pretty strange though…" I look up to Tony again and lift an eyebrow, rolling my eyes as I continue to take down important things.

"His mind is pretty erratic, so talking to him may not be an effective option." Doctor Banner says quietly and I put my pen down, crossing one leg over the other.

"What would you suggest?" I'm genuinely curious as the Doctor exhales and becomes silent for a minu

"Psychological warfare." He says simply, resting his hands on his knees as I look down to my notes.

"On the God of Lies and Mischief? Can it even be done?" Doctor Banner nods, despite the fact that I was so sure it was impossible.

"I'm really not the one to be talking to about this." He states, politely bowing out of the conversation. "Talk to Natasha, she's actually done it." My head swivels to the redhead who nods when I give her a questioning look. My pen at the ready, I interrogate her.

"What did you do?" Is the first question out of my mouth and she looks as though she's trying to remember.

"I gave him a taste of his own medicine. Try twisting his words, he does that a lot." I give her thumbs up, but I don't verbally reply as I begin to take notes again.

"I'll try that, my main goal is to get him into a state of mind where he can trust me enough to let me know the root cause of why he's bringing so much death and destruction. I highly doubt it's because he cares, but Mr. Barton's self-respect theory is a major possibility." I tell the group, sitting forward and turning of my tape-recorder, flipping my notebook shut.

"Group therapy, there's nothing like it." Leave it to Mr. Stark to break the silence once I'm finished speaking.

"Well, that's more than enough for today, and it's getting too late to talk about people we want to kill." I reply and he nods as I walk into the kitchen to put my notes and recorder away.

"Amen." Steve says and I laugh as I try to reach to the highest shelf to grab one of the glasses. My mother always taught me to be hospitable and offer guests drinks, until now, I never really had any.

"Can I help you with that?" I turn as I hear Steve behind me and I nod as he barely goes on tip-toe to retrieve the cups. This makes me a little pissed, as I'm not that short, on the contrary, I'm the tallest in my family, but there will always be people taller then you to be there to reach for something you can't with little to no effort.

"Thanks, you want anything?" I ask, moving towards the fridge as he leans against my countertop.

"Water would be nice, if you have it." He replies as I reach into the icebox, pulling out my filtered jug of one of Earth's necessities.

"I have some to spare." I retaliate, cracking myself up as he laughs at my little joke. I pour the clear liquid in the glass and hand it to him as he strums up a polite conversation whilst I fill more glasses.

"So, you're a doctor?" He asks and I grin, nodding.

"Yep, I've been out of University for about a year now." I tell him and he looks surprised.

"And yet they assigned you Loki?" he asks disbelievingly and I shrug.

"I have good connections with S.H.E.I.L.D. I knew Phil Coulson, him and my sister Lindsay used to date, before he… died and she met Stacey." I respond sadly, thinking of the good, nice man who's no longer with us and he nods, but looks confused.

"I have never heard of a man being named Stacey." I resist the urge to laugh but suppress it as I look to the man who was frozen in time. I understand this is a sensitive subject, as homosexuality between men in World War II was consider as psychological disorder, but among women, it was relatively unheard of.

"That's because my sister's not engaged to a man, Steve, she's marrying a woman, Stacey Havensbee to be exact." I explain and his eyes widen a little bit as a mad blush crosses his face.

"Oh," Is all he says as I suppress another smile at his embarrassment. I place the rest of the glasses I've filled onto a large plate, summoning up all I remember from when I was waitressing to get myself through university and walking into the living room.

"Anybody for water?" I ask with a smile as positive murmurs are heard all around. I set the plate down on the coffee table and as people lean forward to get their drinks, Natasha speaks up.

"So, Mia what were you and Steve talking about?" She asks casually and just as I open my moth to tell her, Mr. Stark speaks up.

"Lesbians."


End file.
